


buckle my knees

by orphan_account



Category: TOMORROW X TOGETHER | TXT (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Awkward Flirting, Character Study, First Dates, M/M, Skateboarding, avril lavigne said "i'm with the sk8er boi" and i said Sign Me Up, beomgyu submits to the Mortifying Ordeal Of Being Known, gratuitous mentions of overalls, i have a taeyeonbin agenda and it is Evident
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26782519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “He’s cute,” Beomgyu says absentmindedly, gesturing with his chin. “Overalls boy?”“Him?” Mingi asks gleefully, “The boy that’s coming towards usright now?”(Or: He was a punk, he did ballet, what more can I say?)
Relationships: Choi Beomgyu/Huening Kai, Choi Soobin/Choi Yeonjun/Kang Taehyun
Comments: 43
Kudos: 137





	buckle my knees

**Author's Note:**

> \- title from [i want to be with you](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UkTjA65YuZE) by chloe moriondo   
>  \- inspired by [dazed & confused](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nel_hT0ZQHA) by ruel   
>  \- the [spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0tKsNnqroBeWvkjIAO4NFA?si=lLbdWDn3TMuvDccMXHObFw) for silly summer crush vibes   
>  \- a billion thank yous to my betas, [juliet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trinitarias/pseuds/trinitarias) and [mari](https://twitter.com/vespxrtyne), and a billion sorries to the twt tl that had to witness my overalls fever dream... i've Mostly recovered

The routine is nice, if a bit simple. The studio is humid and the barre is slick with sweat as he stretches out, feels his ankles crack. The combination of ensemble dancers tittering, open exercise bags spilling pointe shoes onto the floor, and the memories of a hundred bodies leaves exhaustion thick in the air. (Really, they have to get an air conditioner soon, or he’s billing his teacher for his laundry.) Soobin and Taehyun have their feet pressed together, doing partner stretches, and Mingi is beside them, lying face down on the floor, whining _again_.

“I’m in love,” he moans and spreads his arms out like a starfish. It gives Beomgyu an excellent view of his armpits. “How do I tell Yunho that I wanna suck his face.”

Soobin tries to smile reassuringly but it comes out like more of a grimace. “Hyung, if you don’t stop pining I'm gonna ask him out _myself_.” He kicks his leg at Mingi and sticks his tongue out at Taehyun, who giggles over the chatter of students filtering out of the class.

Beomgyu’s muscles are straining as he rolls his shoulders one last time and centres himself. Head over shoulders over hips over ankles, turned out into _première position_.

“Why don’t you just tell him?” he asks, and pretends not to notice when they turn to him like petulant meerkats. “It can’t be that hard? If he says yes, he says yes. If not, you move on with your life. Then you can stop middle-school-crushing and I can stop wanting to put your face in a toaster oven.”

He’s never been into dating, but it can’t possibly be as difficult as Mingi’s making out to be; you just do it, right? Either you like each other or not, what’s the hold up?

“Toaster oven,” Soobin repeats in a creepily accurate impression of him.

“Hyung you don’t get it,” Taehyun says, pulling his bag over his shoulder. It droops with the weight of slippers he’s grown out of, but refuses to replace. The clamour of students rises, and the music loops again. He would say that the _Swan Lake_ feels like an omen, but in reality, he’s playing the lead. “It’s so hard! You don’t wanna ruin the friendship by confessing, or make it awkward.” Taehyun’s hands leave fingerprints on the mirror as he struggles to pull his sneakers on. “Plus asking someone out is hell.”

Soobin zips up his sweater and nods sagely. “Putting your feelings on the line? No way you’d get it, you’ve never dated anyone. Plus, who wants to kiss a _Bloch_ die-hard?”

“ _Capezio_ hoe,” he snipes back, and together, they all yank Mingi up off the ground and troop out the door into the May sun. Beomgyu wipes his face with the sleeve of his shirt and it comes away wet with sweat. So much for a cool down.

The sidewalks are mostly empty, or as empty as they can be this late in the afternoon. They cut through an alley past a dingy convenience store and duck under a rusted fence. The street is littered with garbage and broken furniture, a cat slinks past his feet into a hole in a brick building. Fancy.

Soobin shoves past the gate and they walk into the skate park. The walls are peeling with layers of grimy street art, replaced with some new swear word every week. The cracks in the pavement and broken rails make it hard to do much of any skating, but it’s still busy with people. Little kids with their knee pads, parents smoking around the edge of the bowl, and teenagers daring each other to buy drinks from the convenience store up the street that doesn't card.

“Hey!” Yeonjun yells, and skates past them in a blur. His smile is a little ridiculous as he kicks his board up into his hand and laces the other with Soobin’s. He kisses Taehyun’s cheek, and they both blush bright pink. Fucking honeymoon phase. “How was practice?”

“Rehearsal,” Soobin reminds him and tugs the skateboard out of his hands. “Taehyunnie, you wanna try?” He pulls Taehyun’s bag off of his shoulder before he can answer and hands it to Yeonjun, who to his credit only looks mildly miffed. Then they’re off again, Soobin flirting terribly and putting his hands on Taehyun’s waist as soon as he gets on the board.

“So no head?” he mumbles, and Yeonjun punches his arm.

Yeonjun glows a little as he watches them, then says, “Did you meet the new boy?” 

He cranes his neck to search for someone in the crowd. A man in a wheelchair with his dog, a grandmother hawking her pyramid scheme; no one stands out to Beomgyu except for a boy on the opposite edge of the bowl skating absentmindedly. He’s tall and has his hair parted over his forehead, curls falling over his ears like some sort of Greek statue. His face is unique, a little like he’s been carved out of marble but the sculptor forgot to make him look realistic; high cheekbones, pretty little mouth, arched brows.

“He’s cute,” Beomgyu says absentmindedly, gesturing with his chin. “Overalls boy?”

He _is_ cute, little hat and rolled up cuffs that look so out of place in the grime of the skatepark. Beomgyu sort of wants to squish him, or ask him for his skincare routine. He’s downright _adorable_ , and he’s...coming over to them?

“Yeonjun hyung!” he yells, and starts to skate around the rim.

“Him?” Mingi asks gleefully, “The boy that’s coming towards us _right now_?”

“What.” 

Beomgyu is panicking, he’s definitely panicking. It’s just his luck, he never expresses interest, and the one time he actually does? The boy is coming closer? He wipes his palms on the bottom of his shirt and tries not to fidget, not to show in any way that his heart is pounding so hard he can feel it in his fingertips. He doesn’t get nervous, he _never_ gets nervous, and he remembers the one time in hagwon he made fun of Yeonjun’s crush on the teacher until he tackled him in the middle of class. This is some kind of sick, twisted karma out of middle school Yeonjun’s wildest dreams, and one look at him tells Beomgyu that he’s never _ever_ going to hear the end of it.

“Shit,” he says, and tries to turn around. Mingi yanks the strap of his bag so that his arm is hopelessly tangled and Yeonjun laughs manically. “You guys—” he flails, trying to get free, “fucking suck!”

He can feel sweat dripping down the back of his neck like he’s been doused in water. The boy, he’s getting even closer, and Yeonjun smiles this evil grin and Beomgyu shoves at his chest and—

“You think he’s cute?” Yeonjun shouts, loudly enough that a couple people nearby startle and a kid drops her ice-cream cone.

The boy’s eyes widen, his foot catches on the back of his skateboard and he goes sprawling, hands thrown out to stop himself from eating shit on the concrete. His skateboard shoots out from under him and clangs into the fence, same note as the end of _Swan_ motherfucking _Lake_. Yeonjun rushes over to help him up and brushes the gravel out of the indents in his palms. He’s somehow still smiling like an idiot, very clearly enjoying the boy’s flushed face and Beomgyu’s barely contained fury.

“Do you remember,” Beomgyu seethes, “that time that you broke your mom’s ugly expensive vase and blamed it on me? I’m gonna tell her that it was you.”

“That was ten years ago,” he whines. “She’ll make me find the same one and buy it for her.”

“Good!”

“Hi,” the boy says, and Beomgyu wants to drown in his voice. Or punch him, who knows.

“This is Beomgyu,” Yeonjun replies, clearly enjoying himself.

“I’m Huening Kai,” he says, looking vaguely uncomfortable, “but I just go by Kai.” 

He can feel Taehyun and Soobin watching him and — shit, this is revenge isn’t it? He can hear them taunting him in his head, _well if it’s so easy to ask someone out, then you should be able to do it, right?_

He untangles himself slowly from the strap of his bag and he can feel Mingi practically vibrating. He looks up into Kai’s eyes and — wow, he’s so tall.

When he was younger he used to write all of his crushes’ names onto notebook paper and then rip them up into a hundred pieces, scatter them outside his window. He’d watched all his friends fall and hurt themselves; what was the point of all the good stuff if you just got heartbroken in the end? And what good was a crush when he had something he already loved? Day in and day out; go to the barre and stretch, practice routines, perform and perform and perform night after night until he can’t move anymore, can’t really see. 

He watches people hold hands one day and block each other the next. Why think about the threat of heartache when _pliés_ never ask him why he won’t put their initials in his Instagram bio? Love ends and ballet comes first, but — well, he isn’t a coward.

He cracks his knuckles and almost steps back into the half-melted ice-cream on the pavement.

This isn’t love though, it’s just...a date. Prove to Mingi and everyone else that it’s easy. He’s just as capable as anyone else. 

He musters up all of his dignified courage.

“Can I...do you mind? Could I talk... to you?” 

It comes out as a squeak.

Kai laughs.

Is he laughing _at_ me? Beomgyu wonders, and straightens his spine. They step a few feet away, definitely still in earshot of Yeonjun, who pouts and crosses his eyes.

Beomgyu sticks his tongue out at him and turns back. The boy is biting his lip, fiddling with the wheel of his board. 

He’s so pretty. He’s so so pretty.

“You don’t have to...you know you don’t have to do this because of them right?” Kai has a weird expression on his face, uneasy and sort of charmed at the same time.

“I know.”

“So?”

“Will you, I mean can I—” he swallows thickly, and he can feel Kai’s gaze focused on him. He feels _seen_ , and everything just spills out. “Listen you’re really cute, okay? And I don’t know how to do this because I’ve never done it before but I would like to see more of you?” Kai opens his mouth. Beomgyu cuts in, “Not _like that!_ I mean I guess _like that_ if you want, I mean maybe someday if you ever want to see me again after this but,” he gestures lamely, “I want to get to know you! You’re gorgeous and you look hot in those overalls and I would like to take you out. Please.” Kai looks a little taken aback, so he tries to reel it in, “Only if you want! We can forget about this and pretend it never happened and I can move to Hawaii and block Yeonjun hyung’s number!”

That’s worse. He’s making it worse.

“I’m from Hawaii,” Kai says after a moment.

Definitely worse. 

He’s fully rambling now, shooting desperate eyes at Taehyun who’s laughing so hard he’s bent over, falling off the skateboard. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll just leave now and never come through this park again and if you go to the university please don’t acknowledge me if you see me and—”

“Whoa, are you okay?” Kai puts a hand on his arm and Beomgyu stills. The embarrassment is burning him from the inside out, like someone has slapped him straight across the face. He could’ve just left it, let his friends tease him, _anything_ would be better than the absolute mortification of this pretty stranger’s pity.

It stings until Kai says, “I’d like that.”

“What?” It must come out a little sharper than he intends, because Kai recoils a bit, tucks his hand into his pocket.

Beomgyu seethes.

“I just, I want to get to know you too!”

Who _is_ this boy and who let him be _this_ cute? Everything in Beomgyu is screaming to either fight him or get the hell out. Kai and his stupid curls and his stupid little pocket in the front of his overalls and his stupid skateboard. Get fucked.

Beomgyu pulls his phone out of his bag and shoves it into Kai’s hands. He can hear Soobin and Mingi yelling up a storm, hooting and hollering. 

Kai huffs out a laugh and types in his number. “Sorry,” Beomgyu says, “I—”

He glances back and they’re gesturing wildly, giant matching grins. Yeonjun wolf whistles.

“Really hate them,” he finishes, and takes his phone back. Kai has saved his name as kai(´｡•ᵕ•｡`), and that makes him so angry that he wants to kick a wall.

  
  


Later, when he’s laying face down on the floor while Soobin stretches at the plastic barre they bought off of Gmarket, he feels a strange sense of déja-vu.

“What the fuck,” he moans, and rolls onto his back. The star stickers they stuck onto the ceiling when they moved in are peeling in the heat. He tilts his head and one falls right off and onto his face. “I’m a fucking star, this is a metaphor.”

“Shut _up_ ,” Soobin says, and aims his _developpée_ at Beomgyu’s head. “I’ve been listening to Mingi pine for weeks — weeks! — and now I have to deal with your shit? I think the fuck not.”

“He’s so pretty, I want to punch his face.”

“Do you think,” Soobin says slowly, his concentration face falling into something satisfied, “that this is payback? You made fun of Yeonjun hyung and I for months while we tried to ask Taehyun out. _Months_.”

He wants to argue but it’s true. What is he doing? Falling apart at the thought of curls? He doesn’t even know Kai yet and he’s already this much of a mess?

“You know what?” He stands up too fast and gets a little dizzy. “You’re right, I’m not a simp!”

“Simp is an inherently sexist term,” Soobin says calmly, fixing his turn out, “And good luck. I’ve never seen you _this_ much of a mess before.” He snorts as he over balances on the barre and it goes crashing down.

Another star falls and hits Beomgyu’s shoulder. “Metaphor,” he says, and Soobin nods solemnly.

“Metaphor.”

  
  


Beomgyu lingers and lingers and lingers over Kai’s number. He opens his contact when he wakes up and before he goes to sleep, before class and after class, sometimes even _during_ class. At this point he’s making himself cringe.

“Children,” Yeonjun says wisely, everytime he sees half of a message typed into the compose box, “they grow up so quickly.”

And it’s not even the pressure of his friends anymore, he thinks about Kai and the curve of his cupid’s bow above his lips and _he_ wants it. Is this why Mingi is constantly having a breakdown? Because his heart is always like this?

He sort of feels bad now, and when he tells Mingi, Mingi smacks the back of his head. “Duh,” he says during rehearsal break, “It’s the gay panic dude, it gets us all in the end.”

It certainly does feel like panic, creeping up his spine like cold fingers. It makes his hands clammy and his dance teacher yell at him for _fouetté_ -ing off beat.

“It’s easy,” he tells himself in the mirror for the sixth time, “he wasn’t even that tall, how bad can it be?”

Taehyun bangs on the door of the bathroom until he manages to pick the lock and pull Beomgyu to where they’re sitting squished together in the tub.

“Why on earth would you have any dating advice for me? Yeonjun hyung and Soobin had to ask _you_ out, and everytime they even look at you, you turn into a tomato.”

“‘I’m a fucking genius,” Taehyun says plainly, and tugs Beomgyu’s phone out of his hands. “Why do you think I get them to wait around for me? Make them buy stuff for me?” He taps Kai’s contact and starts typing. “I knew I was going to date them the second I met them, you’re speaking to a master.”

“Okay,” Beomgyu says, and tucks his knees under his chin. “Dating Yoda, teach me your secrets.”

He’s tried a hundred things in the little compose box, _hi!_ and _sup dude_ and _hope this text message reaches you well_ and _please go on a date with me i’m so desperate at this point that i’ve started to stay up at night and imagine our entire life together in a cottage in the suburbs_. Funnily enough, none of those seem right, and it makes him even more mad at Kai and his stupid pocket overalls every time he has to scroll through all his contacts to try something new.

“Easy,” Taehyun says, and hands over his phone.

gyu 🧸: hey this is beomgyu from the skate park, do you want to grab coffee on friday? my rehearsal ends at 6

“Oh,” he breathes out, and then squeezes Taehyun’s hand. “You _are_ a genius.”

It’s simple, it’s low pressure, it requires minimal follow up from either of them until the agreed upon time.

He hits send and smacks a wet kiss onto Taehyun’s cheek, who wipes it off in mock-disgust. “Hyung owes you, Master Yoda.”

“I don’t think you know how Yoda works,” Taehyun grumbles, and the two of them tumble out of the tub as Soobin pushes the door open. His elbow hits the counter and Taehyun’s legs tangle with his as they fall into a graceless heap on the floor.

Soobin looks down at them, and then at the newly cracked screen of Beomgyu’s phone. “It’s a metaphor,” he sighs as he turns away. “Taehyun-ah do you want anything from the store?”

Taehyun looks directly at Beomgyu and smirks. “Can you buy me banana milk?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Beomgyu’s eyes widen when he hears the door slam shut. “He didn’t...he didn’t ask you for money?”

“Yoda,” Taehyun says, and brushes himself off.

“Yoda,” he repeats, “it’s a metaphor.”

“Not everything is a metaphor, stupid. From now on, call me hyung.” He tugs Beomgyu into the closet and surveys the outfit options. “We’ve got a lot of work to do, time to get enlightened, my child.”

  
  


The whole week is spent in preparation of the Date with a capital D. No one else seems too fussed about it but it itches under his skin. At the worst possible times; Choi Beomgyu are you listening to me? _I’m going on my first date_. The first law of thermodynamics is equilibrium. _I can’t even remember his last name_. You’re probably overthinking this. _I wonder if he likes the stars?_

“What?”

“I _said_ ,” Yeonjun sips his coffee, “You’re probably overthinking this. Dates shouldn’t be stressful.”

“Easy for you to say, you’ve been on like a million.”

He snorts. The din of the coffee shop is mellow today; high school students dipping class and old people doing crossword puzzles; Yeosang making faces at them from behind the café bar. “It’s about being yourself. Don’t try to make him like you, you gotta figure out if you like him too. Past the, you know,” he gestures vaguely in the air, “overalls thing.”

“What’s up with that,” Beomgyu moans, and slides down in his seat. “He looks like an angel.”

“Yeah, he’s so cute. Way out of your league.”

Beomgyu makes a noise and kicks him under the table. “I know.”

“Look,” now Yeonjun seems serious, and it feels a bit like getting a stern talking to from his father. “He’s so sweet, and if you string him along, I will scoop your eyeballs out with a spoon.”

“What,” he gasps out and covers his face protectively. “It’s one date. I don’t even know if I like more than his face.”

“It’s a good face,” Yeonjun agrees. “I think you’d suit each other, but I think you’re both nervous for the wrong reasons.” He taps out a beat with his fingers. “You both really want to impress each other, but you’re forgetting that it’s okay if it sucks. Like, it doesn’t have to go well. One date is nothing.” He scrunches his nose. 

“What if,” he sucks in a breath, “What if I do like him and then we go on more dates and then he kisses me and then we’re in a _relationship_? Like I have to trust him to not break my heart and…” he fiddles with his spoon, “I’ve seen all of you fail at your first relationships so what happens if it doesn’t last?” He doesn’t really know how to put it all into words. “You trust someone so much that they could do anything to you? And you’re happy, but only for a little bit? Until inevitable doom, after which I move to the Philippines and sell my worldly possessions to a street vendor? Find a magic lamp and put on some shoes and—”

“What the _fuck_ are you talking about?” Yeosang plunks down at their table, the counter apparently abandoned. “Seriously, dude, are you okay?”

Yeonjun drags a hand down his face. “He’s having first date jitters, but amplified to a billion.”

Beomgyu drops his head into his arms. “What is the point of having a boyfriend if I have to be constantly perceived and it’ll probably end and—”

“Shut _up_ and listen, okay?” Yeonjun slaps his hand on the table. “This is a fucking intervention.” He smacks Beomgyu’s forehead. “Get out of your own head! It’s _one date_. And if it does become something more, well, you just have to trust the person. If it fizzles, it fizzles, but at least you gotta try. I promise you that it’s worth it, even if you break up.” 

Yeosang cuts in, “Your fears are valid but...relationships are a lot of work. You gotta work hard to stay together and compromise and shit. It might end, but you have to get over your fear! Even if your heart gets broken, it’s worth it.”

“And,” Yeonjun says, final nail in the coffin, “In the end, it’s more important that you’re friends. You work together and trust each other. You’re gonna be perceived and you have to be okay with that.” He sighs and it feels like a gavel on a judge’s table, final verdict: “Just try, okay? Don’t miss out on something good because you’re scared.”

And really, there it is: the mortifying ordeal of being known. The risk, for Kai who’s last name he can’t remember. One date with one boy, and then he goes from there.

He soaks in that thought while paying for his expensive hipster coffee and walking with Yeonjun to meet Taehyun. The way Yeonjun looks at Taehyun is a little like he’s hung up all the stars in the sky, like he holds every single secret to coming in first on Rainbow Road in Mario Cart. Like he’s golden, something precious to be cradled in the palm of his hand.

He watches them disagree on ice-cream flavours, and then end up picking one that Soobin likes. He watches them hover close to each other like they can’t stay away.

Electrons, he thinks a little deliriously, attractive forces and electronegativity. The first law of thermodynamics is equilibrium, the law of conservation of energy. The total amount of matter in the Universe stays constant, just changing from one form to another. Give and take.

When he started to get serious about dance, he’d go into the studio and practice until his muscles burned and the janitor came in to tell him that they had to turn the lights out for the night. He’d hear about the parties after, _Gyu-yah, we missed you!_ but nothing ever feels quite as certain as the silence of the studio. The dedication to the art. Spotting during _pirouettes_. Eyes on a target for as long as you can keep them there, then whip your head around and find it again. And again. And again.

But he wants this thing, this first date. Even if it falls apart and they hate each other, he wants it. 

“Are you gonna be okay?” Taehyun asks when he leaves for solo practice on Friday. “Don’t...freak out or anything. Just be yourself.”

 _Be yourself_ , everyone keeps telling him that. _Yourself_ , _just be yourself_ , but how? 

The whole rehearsal, he’s dizzy with anticipation. Not enough that anyone notices, but enough that his teacher pauses the music ten minutes before the end of the lesson and says, “I think that’s enough for today.” She’s shorter than him but she still somehow manages to look down her nose. “You look like you’re going to vibrate out of your skin. See you next week.” 

She collects her things and leaves in a huff, and he can’t even be embarrassed because she’s right. He’s nervous, he’s so nervous, and everything feels a little blurry around the edges.

He sets the music on loop and starts again.

 _Pas de bourrée_ , _ciseaux_. The change of clothes packed into his bag is what he and Taehyun settled on, white shirt and jean jacket; _just be yourself_. The music swells into the next transition. _Plié, coupé, petit jeté_. Arms from _demi-seconde_ to _quatrième position_. His mind goes a little blank when he’s dancing — it’s easy not to think, just focus.

Ballet looks so deceptively easy from the outside, pretty jumps and frilly costumes. Gatekeepers miss the grueling hours they spend, everything held taut. The physicality and strength, the grace, it’s all on display when he steps onto a stage to perform. 

The tears and the injuries and the fighting, clawing for the top — it’s exhausting and satisfying. It burns going down his throat, sour candy medicine that tastes nasty on the way down and makes him glow from the inside out.

 _Fouetté, fouetté, fouetté,_ there’s the target; don’t miss. 

He’s panting as the music ends, loops again. He can hear his heart in his ears. Count of eight, take a bow. Hope you enjoyed the show.

“That was beautiful.”

He whips around to see Kai leaning against the wall, dopey grin on his face. He looks wholly out of place, scraped-up skateboard and undone shoelaces. Beomgyu burns. He burns and burns and burns.

“Were you...watching me? The whole time?”

“Your teacher let me in, she said you were waiting for me.” He fidgets with the wheel of his board again.

The distance between them feels like both too much and not enough, Beomgyu still in _cinqième position_ , Kai with his fingerprints on the mirror.

“I was supposed to change,” he says. He feels a little lost. 

Kai comes closer and closer until his hand is brushing Beomgyu’s hem. “You’re in a skirt.” It sounds like it should be a question, but it’s more of a statement. “It’s pink.”

“Is that a problem?” 

“No!” Kai looks a little startled by the volume of his own voice. “Not at all, you look really good in it. In fact, I really don’t understand the gender division of clothing, you should wear a skirt all the time! I mean, only if that’s what you want, you don’t have to do anything I say.” He clutches his skateboard to his stomach. “I mean you don’t have to wear a skirt to look good, I mean—”

His rambling sounds familiar, and the irony isn’t lost on Beomgyu. “It’s okay.” He pulls Kai’s board out of his hands and sets it on the floor.

The uncomfortable starts of friendships are the worst parts, he thinks. Don’t know how much to give and how much to take; where it’s okay to joke and where to pull back.

No point in regretting it now, either they like each other or they don’t. 

“Let me get ready,” he says, and Kai’s smile is starlight. “Don’t be nervous.”

He tugs on one of Kai’s curls and it springs back into place. Metaphor, or something.

**Author's Note:**

> a painting i thought about a lot while writing this fluff: [coppelia](https://fineartamerica.com/featured/coppelia-podi-lawrence.html) by [podi lawrence](http://www.podilawrenceartist.com), and ofc the avril lavigne song of the century: [sk8er boi](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TIy3n2b7V9k)   
>  [twt](https://twitter.com/miirrababy) [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/mirababy)


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